


Star & I

by spockina



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, angsty as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2497862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockina/pseuds/spockina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Before the world you know was like it is, I held a lover once and I was his.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star & I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends. Since this is the first Star Trek story I’m posting, I’ll have you knowing that this is probably one of my dearest fandoms. I don’t dare writing TOS because I think it’s a huge step, but I try my hand at AOS, which brings us to this point: this is a Star Trek: AOS fanfiction about Prime!Spock and I have zero regrets in this life of mine. I believe you know, but I’m a sucker for angst. So this is an angsty story about Prime!Spock and the Jim Kirk that wasn’t his. Disclaimer is pretty similar to the one in The Old Fics: I’ve grown enough to proofread but I had it done using a website, because I’m apparently someone who doesn’t have guts to ask an actual person to read their work and “judge” it. Oh well. English isn’t my first language, blah blah blah; whatever mistake you find is my own (and if you’d kindly point it out, I’d correct it). Enjoy! (Or not. It is sad.)
> 
> Love,
> 
> Spockina.

_

_“Before the world you know was like it is I held a lover once and I was his.”_

**Tales from the Old Spock.**

**∴**

Humans have a very specific way of communicating. Even though their graphic language is the simplest amongst all the languages existent, and it is not the most complicated to learn it is, still, the most complicated to  _understand_.

Humans also are the only species that interact the way they do. Terran people – not humanoids, but Terran people, as in being raised in Terra's customs and traditions – have some rather peculiar habits, for lack of a better word. Their language goes far beyond its graphic signals. For a fact, it is known that the _communication_  of a race has little to do with the graphic representation, but for Humans, this seems to go wide, in dimensions that other beings cannot quite comprehend.

They have this…  _thing_  they call “joke”, which is a concept rather hard to grasp.

To this day, still, Spock does not know what they meant. He did not know back in the day, and he still does not know. Although he remembers all of them with a fond feeling inside of himself, as said memories always come bringing along the memory of  _bright_.

Bright, golden, pure, incandescent… A  _smile_.

Spock himself can count on his fingertips how many times he truly smiled in his life, and, again, coincidence or not ( _not_ , really), all of his smiles were caused by the brightness that he so fondly remembers of, because, if he did not smiled enough, his ray of sunshine smiled enough for them both in three different lives and  _incarnations_  – another human concept.

Ambassador Spock of New Vulcan; Spock, son of the great Sarek; Ambassador Spock, Ambassador Selek; Spock,  _my Vulcan_.

Spock was given many titles in his long life. Not one of them ever affected him. Inside of himself, he was only Spock whose full name Humans could not pronounce out of ignorance. But things happen, and things happened on Spock’s life.

 _Things happen_ … That’s a Human saying.

Today, Spock is proud of what he become. Of what he grew old to be. He sure wishes, every day of his life, that he could go back in time, even though this is the most illogical thing to wish. He wishes, though. He wishes he could go back in time, and do everything all over again, and then repeat. Repeat, repeat, repeat. He would live a thousand lives only to see his treasured  _brightness_  and to hear again  _My Vulcan_  slipping past the lips of his  _t’hy’la_  and… just see his  _t’hy’la_  again. Touch him. Make sure he’s whole, full and  _alive_.  _Bright_.

He is proud of…  _wishing_. It brings a pang of pain, like a knife slicing his metaphorical heart in tiny pieces; so small he would not be able to sew them together again. It also brings a warm feeling to spread around him, making him feel as if his skin is tingling. So, yes, he is proud of wishing. Of desiring something so badly that he momentarily forgets his loss and thinks that, if he wishes just that little bit harder, his  _t’hy’la_  will materialize in front of his eyes like a…  _miracle_.

He is deeply aware of all the flaws in his mental speech. He is aware that he should not be saying things such as “pang of pain”, or making analogies such as “knife slicing his heart”, or being proud of  _wishing_. Be forbidden that Sarek never feels any of this coming from him.

Then again.

 _His_  Sarek never accepted that (this one belongs to young Spock, and he is one good man who loves his Spock just as much as he loves his wife Amanda). But _his_  Amanda was proud of him until the end. She held him tight, in a way Vulcans just do not do – yet, she held him and let him  _cry_. For the first time in his life, he did not know time.

He always  _hoped_  that he would die with his  _t’hy’la_  (and there was hope again). Tradition said the pain would be too great, and he, too, would die. Unfortunately, death never came. Only left him open wide, gaping inside of himself with the  _loss_. For the longest time, Spock did not know what to do with himself.

Human’s traditions says that when one beloved dies, the other shall wear black until the pain is gone, in a way to reference the loss.

Spock still wears black. Ambassador, now, and he  _still_  wears black.

He was raised to be Vulcan, but, sometimes, he hopes that he was raised to be… well, not exactly Terran, but, maybe, something in the middle. He  _is_  a hybrid, after all, so why not be raised like one?

He does not know much about all Human things, but he knows  _enough_.

When his eyes saw this young Jim, his heart twitched with an unknown kind of hope (and all wrong things in one sentence only); the hope that maybe, and maybe only, that was his very own James. Hope was gone in a second, though. It did not take long to realize that,  _no_ , that one was not his Jim.

 _This_  Jim was reckless in all the wrong ways. It took Spock only one glance at this Jim to realize that he was broken in many different ways, and the he possibly could not be fixed. He knew young Spock would eventually find a way to fix him, but before  _that_  happened, this Jim would still feel broken for a long time, and his only escape would be defying everyone and everything in his sight.  _His_  Jim was a much different kind of reckless soul. His Jim was a much brighter soul. His Jim’s recklessness lay in the hopes of making things better – not just for the sake of defying everything, but also to make things better.  _Spock sighs._

Sometimes, he wonders what would have become of his life had he never left his home. If he never had decided to attend Starfleet; if he never become so good that they had wanted him in the Enterprise; if he never had actually gotten to Enterprise. If he never had learned how to talk  _Human_. If he had never met Jim. And it is all worth “what if” thoughts, because by the end of them, he realizes that life would just not have been worth it had he gone through it without meeting love.

Without meeting the one love that would fill every lack in and of his being. Without meeting the one love that would last for as long as Spock himself lasted. Without meeting the one  _love of Spock’s life_.

Nero promised him he would make him suffer the greatest pain he had ever felt. Nero promised him he would live to feel the pain of watching the destruction of his home. Nero never knew that the only real pain he would feel was the one of seeing Jim alive and immaculate and somewhat safe, but not  _his_.

Nero did a good job.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote in the beginning is from a song called 'Wolf & I', by Oh Land!, and if you have a chance, go listen to it, because it hurts so beautifully you don't quite understand what's happening. (And yes. Shame on me for the title of the story, but I couldn't think of anything better.)


End file.
